


Goodbye to a Ghost Town

by s2dvd2



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, also mentions of gerard way, but really thats it, gabe and brendon are mentioned like once, mentions of brendon urie - Freeform, mentions of gabe saporta - Freeform, mentions of patrick stump - Freeform, they're not mentioned often
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:48:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s2dvd2/pseuds/s2dvd2
Summary: So, the biggest question: why? Why did I do it? If I were to answer honestly, I don’t know, but at the exact same time, I completely do. It’s weird, and I hate it, because I can never explain it properly. I want to- god, do I want to, because I want you to understand what I’m trying to say, even though I don’t understand myself. I’ve figured on not figuring myself out; I want you to, though, because you’re one of the few people who have ever mostly understood, and I need you to understand for the sake of your own closure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> to her. happy late birthday. im sorry i told you this way rather than directly to you, but this was the only way i could make it work.

Mikey,

It's been a month. A month of us not talking. A month of silence. I don't know what you've been doing in that past month. I honestly don't, and that bothers me more than I really care to admit. As for me, it's been a month of thinking and rethinking, writing and rewriting everything I want to say to you but never actually saying it. I think I'm scared to say it, and maybe I just don't want to hurt you all over again. I don't know. The excuses snowball together until I can't decipher them one from another, and I'm sorry. You deserve better- you always have.

A month ago I broke up with you. You know this. I know this. Anyone within immediate distance of me knows this, because the guilt of everything- but yeah. A month ago I broke up with you, and in the process, broke the heart of one of the prettiest, kindest, loveliest people I have and ever will encounter again. Which- please, _please_ understand this- was never, ever my intent. I never wanted to hurt you. But I did. And I'm sorry. God, Mikey, I'm so sorry.

I don't even know where I'm going with this. But I plan to go somewhere, and I plan for you to see this and know this is for you, because you deserve this, and I'm sick and tired of hurting you, and seeing you yesterday just drove everything in and straight through and I feel like if I don't say this now, I never will, and everyone will know why I hurt you _except_ for you. Unfair.

So, the biggest question: why? Why did I do it? If I were to answer honestly, I don't know, but at the exact same time, I completely do. It's weird, and I hate it, because I can never explain it properly. I want to- god, do I want to, because I want you to understand what I'm trying to say, even though I don't understand myself. I've figured on not figuring myself out; I want you to, though, because you're one of the few people who have ever mostly understood, and I need you to understand for the sake of your own closure. So, in advance: I am really, really sorry if this doesn't make sense. I'm sorry. I'm trying to organise my thoughts. Be patient with me; you always were before, and I admire- I crave that. Please. I'm sorry.

I want you to know that it wasn't you. You asked me, in the letter you sent me, if it was something you did. The answer is no. God, no. No. It wasn't. You weren't overbearing. You weren't too much. You were perfect- still are perfect, despite me trying my damnedest to make you seem anything less. You were sweet; you were caring; you were loving; etc, etc. I could go on for ages about all the qualities, major and minor alike, that I love about you still, but I won't. We'd both agree it's for the best you didn't listen because it would probably only worsen anything you might feel right now. Simply, no. You didn't do a goddamned thing wrong. You were everything I could ask for. The only thing, the _only_ thing I can rightly fault you for is falling in love with me, a boy who can't commit to a thing- be it heart or hospital, because I was bound to break your heart. I hate saying that, but I fully believe I was.

See, you know most of my history with relationships. You were there for them, and when you weren't, you listened to me talk about them and how much I hated it, him, her, this that and the other. And, likewise, I was there for your relationship problems, and when I wasn't, you filled me in. And I hate- I genuinely fucking _hate_ the idea of me blaming pissbaby for everything because I like to believe- I like to believe I'm past the point where I think my faults and problems were caused by him. I hate it. I like taking responsibility for my own downfalls because it gives me more bullets for my gun and even more reason to pull the trigger, but I just. I genuinely... I genuinely feel I cannot handle a relationship- a mature, long-lasting relationship after him, because much like I pulled the rug out from under your feet (as you claim), he did the same for me. You know the spiral. You didn't experience my spiral with me because I didn't let anyone experience it, but you know the short and end of it. And just... since then, I've always... I've always had a problem with commitment. I never acknowledged it, but I did. I know I did.

This isn't making any sense. I'm sorry. Let me regroup.

Pissbaby promised me forever. Then the chain of events happened- he found out, he dumped me. This is my fault. I shouldn't have kissed you. I shouldn't have, yet I did, and if given the chance, I sure as hell would go back and do it again. He found out. I lost my forever. I can live with that. Nothing lasts forever, not even love.

No, this still isn't right. This is accusatory. I'm not trying to accuse anyone but myself. Fuck. Okay.

Commitment, since then, has been a haze for me. In theory, I love it: I love the idea of settling down. Getting married. Having kids. Growing old together and dying within months or even days of each other. 'May nothing but death do us part,' 'his and hers,' 'for better or worse.' All of it, I love it, and somewhere inside of me, the little kid who believed in Cinderella and her happily ever after wants that, because I want to be happy forever after, too.

But to me, commitment is like a toy that a spoiled little kid gets for Christmas- like Dudley Dursley and his birthday presents. He wants them while they're shiny, on the shelf, wrapped in plastic where he can't get it. And when he gets it, he likes it for three days before trading it, breaking it, or generally becoming disinterested. That's commitment. It's something that I lust for and envy from afar, it's great for a little while when I have it, and then after a while, it gets old. I don't want it.

Granted, it's more complex than that for me, because while commitment is a shiny new toy, it's also a poison. It's the little parts that should be kept out of reach of children because it's easily swallowed, except commitment _isn't_ easily swallowed because this is the rest of my fucking life I'm talking about, not some removable little part. This is _the rest of my fucking life,_ Mikey.

Do you understand how much that honestly fucking terrifies me?

Maybe you don't. I mean, why would you? You're normal, you're just like everybody else- you _want_ a relationship. You _want_ to get married one day. You _want_ to spend the rest of your life with your husband or your wife. You _want_ all of that. The idea of forever with someone doesn't keep you up at night, the idea of forever doesn't scare you shitless or make you sick to your stomach, because you _want_ that. Not that I can rightly fault you. That's just human nature- we're all programmed to want and seek out lifelong companionship.

That isn't to say I _don't_ want companionship. I _do_ \- the thought of me spending forever by myself honestly terrifies the fuck out of me. But I don't want companionship like _you_ do- as in, I don't want it in the terms of boy/girlfriends. Husbands/wives. I just want companionship in the form of a friend. It's just easier.

It's been significantly easier for me to be friends with someone than it is for me to be their boyfriend. This is something I always realise after the romantic relationship I had with that person fizzles out like a dead firework. I don't know why that is. I really don't. I wish it wasn't that way- I wish I wasn't broken, and I wish I could hold a relationship properly- but anyway. It's just... everything I do in a relationship is a product of the preconceived construct in my brain of all the things I'm _supposed_ to do in a relationship. Pet names; dates; presents; romantic intimacy, however, is a whole different playing field, one that I'd prefer to keep separate from relationships with people- that doesn't make sense. I just mean that- that I want to keep sex and romance separate. I think. I don't know. I don't want to fuck my friends because every time that happens things go south. I lose people when I start fucking them, because I end up fucking them over. I did that to you, too, and I'm sorry.

I've distracted myself. Fuck. Let me backtrack.

Anyway, everything I feel I'm _supposed_ to do in a romantic relationship comes naturally in a platonic relationship that I have with someone. Always. Like, I never have trouble spitting out cutesy bullshit names for my best friends, but after a while, once I'm in a relationship, I just force them out. They aren't natural. I don't know why that is. It just _is_. And I know that doesn't sound like much to you or even anyone else I could try to explain this to, but that's just- that is just the biggest example I can think of. Pet names are huge in relationships to me- as is everything else- but those are immediate. Those come without thinking, without planning. They _should_ , anyway. Everything should be natural, and all of these things- pet names, dates, presents, intimacy- are things that are transcribed into my head as things I _have_ to do to be someone's boyfriend. And I feel like, if I'm _not_ doing these things, then I'm nothing more than a close friend with an overglorified title that I _don't even deserve._ It gets to the point where I'm forcing myself to do these things to maintain the status in my head- because I feel that if I _don't_ then I'm a failure as a boyfriend. I'm failing if I don't do this, that, and the other.

You probably don't view it this way- who would? It's so stupid and just, fuck- anyway, chances are, you don't see it that way. You probably don't see relationships like that. You probably never saw it that way, never saw me as a failure of a boyfriend. But I did- I _do_ , Mikey. Those last few months, I genuinely felt- I genuinely _feel_ that I was failing. I was failing myself, and more importantly, I feel like I was failing _you_.

I feel like I failed you in more ways than I even thought I could.

In one way I failed you by forcing myself to do everything that I felt that I had to do to keep the title of being your boyfriend, and that's something you didn't and _don't_ deserve. Mind, I don't want you to misunderstand- I wasn't forcing myself to do this because I didn't want to be in the relationship. At least, I consciously believe I wasn't. I think I was doing it because I wanted to be what you deserved, and in my mind, you deserved that conception that I had and have always had of what a proper boyfriend should be. Does that make sense? I hope to god that makes sense.

But I failed you in a different way too. That was all too apparent the day that I saw you. Not yesterday, but that day. At your house. In your closet. Before.

You wouldn't look at me. I don't know if you remember that, but it keeps me up at night, the way you wouldn't- or couldn't- look at me. You didn't look at me yesterday, either, except for when you said goodbye. That's not- anyway, you wouldn't. Fucking. Look at me. You acted like you didn't want to touch me either- I kept trying to hold your hand, but it just... you didn't seem into it. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know. These are all useless details that I shouldn't remember but I do because I can't get over the fact that you wouldn't fucking _look_ at me.

I remember going home after I saw you. I remember holding it together enough for Patrick to get home from work before just breaking down on him because I realised. I realised that my actions were hurting you, and I just... I don't know. I don't know how to describe what it really felt like because I'm not feeling it right now, but it was one of the worst feelings in the world. I never want to feel that again.

I was hurting you. And I knew that I was, but I _especially_ knew that I was after I saw you. I was ignoring you and that was killing you- that's what Gerard said in his message. He said I was killing you. I knew that my ignoring you- which, by the way, was a result of me hiding from my problems rather than facing them like a man- was hurting you. I'm not dumb; I realised that. I knew that. And that makes me sound like an asshole, admitting that I knew I was hurting you but never acting to stop it- and truthfully, I don't care. I don't care what most people think of me as long as they know the truth (or, at least, what part of the truth I'll let them know- everyone is a liar in their own respects, no matter what). But I knew I was _hurting_ you. Killing you? Fuck, Mikey. _Killing_ you was never on the spectrum of things I wanted to avoid because I never even considered that a possibility. I never thought I would come _close_ to it. I never wanted to hurt you- I _never_ wanted to fucking _hurt you._ Yet, here I was, killing you.

Killing you, Mikey. Do you understand? _Killing you_.

God. I'm never going to forgive myself.

Of course, it would be completely unreasonable to act like my own feelings had no part in this. I mean, this is _me_ we're talking about. It's always Pete this, Pete that, Pete Pete Pete. But I was. The longer we were together, the longer I felt like I was failing- the longer I actually _was_ failing both of us. I was hurting you, but I was hurting myself, too. Selfish to say, but I don't give a fuck. It's true. I was hurting.

So, to answer the question of if Gerard's message had anything to do with my actions, the answer is sort of. His message did not directly influence what I did, but his message was something of permission to do it. That sounds ridiculous and stupid, doesn't it? But it's true. In his message he said I was killing you by not talking to you, I've already mentioned that. But he also said that you felt like we weren't even in a relationship anymore; in a way, I guess he was right. But he also said that, while it would definitely hurt you worse if I just broke up with you, you would be able to start healing then. And you twice told me something along the lines of "Sometimes we have to hurt others to help ourselves"- the first time you said this, we stopped talking for two months. The second time you said it was a few days before we started dating.

Do you understand yet? Do you understand at all?

I did this to help the both of us. I did this because I knew I wouldn't stop ignoring you, despite seeing and knowing how badly this was fucking you up. I knew that I couldn't fix the damage I had done because it would just happen again. And again. And again. And so on. I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't just stop ignoring you, and if I did, I would end up doing it again at some point because I was scared. I would keep killing you slowly like this because of things I can't handle. I figured a slit throat was better than the repeated stabbing I was bound to do.

So, I broke up with you.

I broke up with you because I saw it as the only real way for us- _both_ of us- to fix ourselves. You would be able to put yourself back together after I'd so mercilessly pulled you apart. I knew that, eventually, I would feel better, too, but I wanted, more than anything, for _you_ to feel better. That's all I've ever wanted for you, Mikey. And you can say that we could've talked this out- Patrick even said I should talk to you about my feelings, but I felt and still feel that I ruined it. I couldn't fix it. You didn't feel like we were in a relationship. We were already over by that point- the tombstone was half engraved, it just needed an end date. And I provided one.

But if these happen to be the last words you ever read from me again, I want you to know this- all of this. So please listen carefully to every word I say, because I'm not going to repeat myself.

Everyone thinks, in this fucked up mentality that society has, that I should be happy to be single. I don't have anyone to tie me down, I don't have anyone I have to please but myself. I can go out and kiss whoever I want. Fuck whoever I want. I'm free. And in a way, I'm... _relieved_ , I guess is the word I'm looking for. I don't have to worry about being stuck somewhere in Picket Fence America with a ring wrapped around my finger, because I don't _want_ a ring around my finger. A gold band is as good as a noose slipped tight around my throat, because in one way or another, I'm going to end up dead due to a suffocation act. I don't want any sort of ring unless they're around my eyes, and it's hard to say "I do" when I don't.

But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm happy.

In fact, I'm the farthest thing from happy.

I once told Patrick that it wouldn't bother me so much if you broke up with me. I know that that's nothing more than a complete lie because if you _had_ dumped me, I would've been upset; however, I felt I wouldn't be _as_ upset because I would know I deserved it. I was so shitty to you. You might not think so, but I was, in more ways than one. And I deserved for you to leave me. I deserved it more than anything.

You, however, did not deserve _me_ breaking up with _you_.

I said earlier that you didn't do anything wrong, except fall in love with me. And you didn't. You were the epitome of the perfect boyfriend. You listened; you cared; you loved me, with all of my faults. You made cute little gifts that still mean the world to me and I can't bring myself to throw away. You were perfect, in and out, in every single way possible. And I fell in love with you. I fell in love with _all_ of you. I fell in love with your habits, your obsessions, your problems, and your qualities, good and bad. I loved everything about you that hurts. I loved the things you hate about yourself. I loved all of it- I _still_ love all of it.

I don't think I had ever properly fell in love with someone before you. I really don't. I _thought_ I loved pissbaby, but I didn't- it was just the way he looked in the light. I loved Brendon with one foot in the bedroom and one foot out the door, and Gabe was just a firework that went off too soon. The one before you was like a chapel in a hospital. But you? You were everything and more. For once, you made me feel as if I was loved, and I loved you back. Properly, no. I've never properly love anyone, except maybe Patrick, but that's different. He's different. I did, however, _try_ to love you properly. I tried my fucking best, even if I most certainly failed at times. I tried. I wanted you to feel like a little prince, because that's what you are. I wanted to treat you like an angel, because that's what you are. I tried my best to treat you the best I fucking could. I failed lots of times, but I tried. I wanted to do right by you. I never intended to hurt you. It was never my intention to _not_ love you.

My intentions were never to hurt you. They were always to love you. My intention was to love you and have a future with you. To marry you. To have kids with you, and grow old with you. We had it all planned out. I _promised_ that this was going to happen. I promised. I should've never promised you that. Looking back, the things I promised you were nothing more than teenage vows made under the lamps in high school's parking lot. They were only going to last us until morning- til tonight do us part, you know?

Well, it's morning now, and we're awake.

The path to hell is sometimes paved with good intentions, and the road outside my house leads directly to the gate. I never intended for any of this to happen; it just did. And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mikey. I never meant to show you that promises aren't kept. I never meant to show you that wishes are pointless. I never meant for any of this, and the fact that they happened anyway is just one more sign of my inability to do things right by anyone. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this, any of it, but it was necessary. For you, and for me.

I just want to say that my breaking up with you wasn't meant to be an act of cutting you off. It was just supposed to be an act of... I don't know. I _do_ know, however, that it wasn't supposed to signify that I didn't want you around, or that I didn't love you anymore. I still love you, Mikey. I've tried to say that throughout this whole thing- it's a strange way of saying I love you, I know, but this is a love letter in my own way. If you don't want to be around me anymore, though, I understand that and I'm not going to keep chasing a storm that's trying to get away from me. Until then, we'll still be... I don't know. Best friends? Ex friends. Better off as lovers, but not the other way around, I guess.

I hope this made sense, Mikey. I hope that this muddled mess that you read makes sense up in that sweet head of yours, because if it doesn't, I don't know what I'm going to do. I apologise if it all sounds like a cop out but I've told you whatever part of the truth I thought you deserved to know. Everything else I'm taking to my grave, and you can take this to yours.

Lastly, thank you. Thank you for being the best boyfriend I could ever have, and will ever have again, because after this, I'm swearing off dating and romantic relationships as a whole. I can't deal with them- at all. And that sounds like a cop out, as I've said, and I hate it, but at the very least, I'm going to keep my promise that you're the last person I'll ever be with, be it boy, girl, neither, or anything in between. Thank you for allowing me to love you. Thank you for keeping me alive those nights when I thought I wouldn't see morning; thankfully Patrick is here to do that for me now. I hope you find someone who can treat you better than I ever could. He or she would be the luckiest fellow on earth. Thank you for sending my jacket back, because it smells exactly like you, and you smell like some part of home to me. Thank you for sending me the pictures, too. I'll keep them as a reminder: a reminder of us. Of all the good things, of all the bad. Of all the in betweens. Of photo proofed kisses I remember so well, and of each and every "I love you" that we said, and more importantly, _meant_.

And, if you've read this far, thank you for listening.

Thank you for everything, Mikey. I wish you the best, I really do. You deserve it. I love you.

-Pete

 

**Author's Note:**

> the playlist of songs i listened to while writing this.
> 
> Hum Hallelujah - Fall Out Boy  
> It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Don't - Fall Out Boy  
> G.I.N.A.S.F.S. - Fall Out Boy  
> Bang the Doldrums - Fall Out Boy
> 
> Honourable Mentions:
> 
> Fourth of July - Fall Out Boy  
> Whatsername - Green Day


End file.
